


Life Is A Maze, Love Is A Riddle

by MachineQueen



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: #TGFodlanBakeOff, F/F, Pre-Canon, Pre-Timeskip, The Great Fodlan Bakeoff, rom com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24645466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachineQueen/pseuds/MachineQueen
Summary: Dorothea wanted the Prince of Faerghus and by the goddess she was going to do everything in her power to get him. With a little help from Ingrid, she'd be well on her way to becoming a queen. If she was going to marry rich, she might as well go the whole hog.Needless to say, things do not go according to plan.Dorogrid. Silly rom-com plot bashed out over two days for #TGFodlanBakeOff. Prompts were: exploration, ambition, secret, devotion with a bonus of gossip.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	Life Is A Maze, Love Is A Riddle

Garreg Mach Academy was never silent. The first night in her dorm room, Dorothea was aware of every rattling pipe and whistling gust of wind. She knew the monastery wouldn’t match her luxurious city songstress accommodations, but it was more barebones than she imagined.

Still, she’d worked hard to get here. She’d have to grit her teeth and deal with shared baths, shared food trays and shared living quarters. Like being a herd animal kept in a pen. But compared to slumbering on the streets of Enbarr, it was five star accommodation. 

Today the students would go through orientation. The only bright spot in such a yawnfest was Professor Manuela as their tour guide. 

“Gather round, students!” Professor Manuela called, sizable breasts heaving. 

Dorothea glanced at her classmates to see who was staring. Her own assets were nothing to be sniffed at and she’d modified her boring uniform to display them nicely. No point being shy at a time like this. Knowing who was into boobs would be information she could potentially use to her advantage.

Except, to her chagrin, the only boy paying the slightest bit of attention to Manuela was one she’d never be interested in. Ferdinand von Aegir. She’d spotted him yesterday and spent a while trying to work out why she recognised him. Dorothea never forgot a face. When she remembered, she realised he was one of the nobles she’d always despise. 

Dorothea didn’t come all the way to Garreg Mach to find any old noble. If she’d wanted scum like Ferdinand she would have stayed in Enbarr. 

There were three other boys in her class. One of them had dorky hair and seemed to be sleepwalking. One of the others was too short and fidgeting like crazy. Not her type. That left ‘just call me Edelgard’’s retainer. Tall, tick, noble decorum, tick. But in dire need of sleep and a haircut. And from the way his eyes followed Edelgard’s every move, Dorothea knew she wouldn’t have a hope in hell. That lovestruck look had adorned the face of many an opera star. It usually ended in disaster for all concerned and Dorothea had no intention of being caught in the middle of it. 

_Useless_ , she thought, _completely and utterly useless._

Then again, she’d never expected finding a husband to be easy. And what must they think, looking at her? Just some gold digging opera floozy?

Professor Manuela smiled, red lipstick and shiny teeth.

“Right then, dears. We shall begin our tour. Stay close, it’s easy to get lost. Perhaps introduce yourself to each other, if you haven’t done so already.”

All seven of them looked at each other. 

“There are supposed to be eight of us, are there not?” asked Ferdinand.

“Bernadetta isn’t feeling well,” said Edelgard. “She’ll join us when classes start.”

Introductions began. Name, house, title. Dorothea fidgeted. She was the only commoner. Petra might _say_ she was a commoner but she was descended from Brigid royalty. Which wasn’t common at all.

When it was her turn, she put her shoulders back and pretended she was on stage.

“Dorothea Arnault. Star singer at the Mittelfrank Opera House. You may have heard of me?”

It seemed no one had, or else they weren’t owning up to it. 

“I have not been to the opera for years,” said Ferdinand. “I have missed it.”

“I do not know this word, ‘opera’,” said Petra. “Some kind of show?”

“That’s right. I used to sing on stage.”

“Why are you enrolled in a combat school?” asked Linhardt. The question Dorothea had long-dreaded. At least she’d practiced her answer.

“A change of pace,” Dorothea said breezily. “Self defense will be a useful skill. And stage combat is very in at the moment.”

“You must be dedicated to your art,” said Edelgard. “Perhaps you will perform for us some time?”

“Perhaps.”

Dorothea hoped she would. What better way to attract a husband than her show stealing voice? She’d have boys eating out of her palm in the space of a single song. 

At the cathedral, Dorothea immediately scrawled her name down for choir practice. In her mind’s eye, she saw what she wanted: a handsome, well to-do boy with manners. After choir practice, he’d exclaim over her voice and buy her dinner. Then he’d look into her soul over a warming pot roast and love even the parts of her she wanted to get away from. Because even now, having worked and worked and worked to get into Garreg Mach, a voice in her head whispered that she didn’t belong. What right had she to walk among nobles? Once they discovered she’d been born in the gutter, she’d be thrown straight back. But with a husband, she’d have security - a name, a position, a house. 

Dorothea surveyed the Eagles. Only one stood alone, eyes fixed on Edelgard. She took a breath and honed in on her prey.

“Well, hello handsome.”

Hubert’s eye narrowed. “I do not want to marry you. No matter how many times you bat your eyelashes or thrust your bosom at me.”

Dorothea laughed, though inside she was quaking. “That’s a funny way to say hello. I was only being friendly.”

“I am not ‘handsome’ in any way, shape or form. Your intentions couldn’t be any more obvious. I am sure other men fall at your feet under such flattery, but I will not be one of them.”

Dorothea imagined kicking Hubert in the balls. A foolish thought. He’d worked her out all too quickly and the most annoying part was how right he was. She’d thought he’d be an easy mark, attention starved and easy to win over with compliments. Not the case. Well, he wasn’t the only one who could go on the attack.

“You only have eyes for Edelgard. I get it. I’m not the only one who’s obvious.”

“Hmph. You couldn’t possibly understand my feelings for Lady Edelgard. They go _beyond_ childish notions like ‘love’.”

“Whatever you say, Hubie. I’m sure anyone in love says the same.”

“I am not in - hmph! I would greatly appreciate it if you did not cause any trouble among our classmates. We are representing Lady Edelgard and I do not want to be constantly surrounded by lovers’ spats.”

“You needn’t worry. I hate Ferdinand, don’t fancy Caspar and Linhardt seems like he’d fall asleep halfway through sex.”

“A fair assessment,” said Hubert. “I was impressed by the stage combat nonsense too. Very convincing.”

“Why, thank you,” Dorothea said, with a little bow of acknowledgement. “So if I keep my husband hunting outside our house, can we be friends?”

“I’ll tolerate it. For Lady Edelgard’s sake.”

***

So the first day could have gone better. But Dorothea refused to let it get her down. Courting someone in her class was a bad idea anyway. They’d be too close, know her too well. It was difficult to look attractive while sweating over sword drills. 

So it was ironic that she saw exactly what she wanted during stable duty, a job renowned for its messiness. Her hat was long discarded and her hair shoved back into a hasty bun. She smelt like horseshit and Linhardt had been as useful as a chocolate teapot. Sweeping ‘made his arms ache’ and the buckets of horse feed were ‘too heavy for my petite frame’. Dorothea suspected Lin’s real talent was excuses. 

One of the stall doors refused to shut. There was a trick to banging it closed that Ferdinand made look easy and Linhardt had precisely no interest in. He had a horsebrush in one hand and a book in the other. Dorothea opened her mouth, a pithy comment on her tongue. The problem with insulting Linhardt was that he didn’t care. Any remark would only be for her own satisfaction. 

Another pair of hands appeared on the door. Large. Masculine.

“Here, let me help.”

The hinges rattled with the force of the shove. But the door was closed and secure.

“Why, thank you,” said Dorothea. “My hero.”

When she turned, she saw Prince Dimitri looking back at her. They hadn’t officially met yet, but his blue cloak was unmistakable. 

“I do not know if I would go that far, but I am glad I could help you.”

There were so many stories where handsome princes showed up to save lost princesses. Dorothea knew she was no princess. She was too cynical, too hard and too clever. But when Dimitri looked at her, wide eyed with a tentative smile, she wanted to be. 

“Dorothea Arnault,” she said. Her heart was beating hard but her voice stayed even. Another talent cultivated on the stage.

“I am Prince Dimitri. A pleasure to meet you. Please feel free to ask if you need any further assistance,”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Oh, there is no need for that. You aren’t Faerghan, so you may just call me Dimitri.”

“I see. Thank you, Dimitri. I have heard a lot about you! From...people.” Dorothea winced. Now was not the time to come over awkward. But Dimitri didn’t seem to mind.

“I have heard much about you, too. The singer who wants to become a swordswoman. You must have some interesting stories.”

“That I do.”

_The perfect opening. Ask him out for tea. Or for dinner. Or...anything._

“What did you hear about me?” asked Dimitri, cutting off her racing thoughts.

“Well. You know. You’re the Prince of Faerghus. And you...like horses. OK, so maybe I didn’t hear that much, but I’d like to hear more!”

“How kind of you to take an interest. Though I am sure I cannot be half as exciting as those you met while you were in the opera.”

“You’d be surprised.” And then she winked for good measure.

“Do you have something in your eye?” asked Dimitri. “I can escort you to the infirmary if you’d like Professor Manuela to take a look.”

“No! No, I’m fine.” Except her face felt like it might burst into flame at any second.

“Very well. I’ll let you get back to your chores. It was nice to meet you, Dorothea.”

***

The meeting reverberated round her mind for the rest of the day. Dimitri ticked all her boxes. Sweet natured, rich, powerful…

 _I could be a queen_ , Dorothea thought. And it was thinking the word ‘queen’ that brought her bumping back down to earth. Dimitri’s first impression would always be of her in the stables, scruffy and in need of assistance. Someone like her would never be able to court the likes of him. 

“Dorothea! Are you listening to me?”

“...What?” 

Professor Manuela tapped the blackboard impatiently. “You didn’t even hear the question, did you?”

“No, Professor.”

“See me after class. Now can anyone else provide me an answer to-” 

Dorothea spent the rest of the class rigid. Whenever her mind wandered back to Dimitri, she forced it back to poetry. She couldn’t afford to fall behind.

Once the other students filed out, Professor Manuela pulled up a chair so they could sit opposite one another. She wore her age well, though Dorothea worried she might spill out of her dress.

“How are you, my dear?” 

“I’m well,” said Dorothea. “I apologise for what happened in class.”

“You seemed lost in thought. Thinking about anyone nice?” 

“I suppose,” said Dorothea. Suddenly she felt guilty for giving Prince Dimitri a starring role in all her fantasies. How pathetic. They’d had one conversation where she’d made a fool of herself. For all she knew, he could be just like Ferdinand or the other nobles always throwing themselves at her.

“What a lucky person they are!”

“It’s never going to happen. I got carried away.”

“How unlike you, to give in so easily. You made it on the stage, didn’t you? And then you got into the Academy.” 

“I suppose.”

“Don’t downplay it, my dear. You’ve done stupendously well. Any boy would be lucky to have you.”

“Even a noble?”

“Let me tell you a secret. Nobles are no different from the rest of us. They were just born under lucky stars.”

Dorothea smiled at that. “You’re right. You always are.”

“You flatter me.”

But Manuela seemed pleased. A familiar face was most welcome. Manuela never made Dorothea feel inferior or commented on her heritage. They shared some gossip about the opera house. Then Dorothea tried to get Manuela to talk about her fellow students, but she wouldn’t. Perhaps Dorothea would have to find a way to introduce liquor into one of their chats…

Manuela was right. Dorothea had only got this far without giving up. She wanted the Prince of Fareghus and by the goddess she was going to do everything in her power to get him.

***

“Is anyone sitting here?” 

Ingrid Galatea looked up from enthusiastically consuming her lunch. “No.”

“Oh, good. Do you mind if I sit down? I’ve been wanting to get to know you, Ingrid.”

“Why is that? I don’t think we really have much in common.”

“Oh? Because I’m not a noble?”

“No! No. Because you’re a glamorous singer and I’m-” Ingrid made a vague gesture. “Not really interested in any of that.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t like singing? Oh, Ingrid. I’m going to have to change your mind.”

“Is that why you want to get to know me?”

Dorothea couldn’t exactly say: _No, actually I’ve been observing the Blue Lions class for the past three days and you’re close to not one but **three** viable marriage prospects. _

“I saw you wallop Sylvain. It looked like it hurt.”

Ingrid’s face cleared of suspicion. _Bingo_. “I didn’t hit him that hard. Please, sit. Has Sylvain been giving you trouble?” 

“No. But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. What I can’t understand is why he goes to all the trouble of chasing other women when he’s got a pretty girl like you right in front of him.”

Ingrid pulled a face. “It would be like kissing my brother. Did you know he even hit on my granny? She said she quite enjoyed it. But that’s not the point!”

“Your granny?” Dorothea didn’t have to fake laughter. “Really?”

“Really. He’s hopeless. Such a _boy_.”

“I take it there’s no one special in your life, then?”

Ingrid shook her head. “I know I should marry. I have a crest, so I’m my house’s only chance for a good match. But...I’m just not interested. It must be nice, not having to worry about that kind of thing.”

Dorothea held her tongue. “I suppose. But don’t you want to fall in love?”

There was a brief silence. Ingrid looked away from both Dorothea and her food. Her eyes looked lost. 

“I _was_ in love. My fiancee passed away protecting his liege.”

Dorothea flinched. Her mouth dried up. She’d come over here on a selfish whim and forgotten Ingrid was a real, actual person. 

“I’m...I’m so sorry.”

“It was what he wanted. A devoted knight’s death. But it meant leaving me behind.”

“Oh, Ingrid.”

A rueful smile. “My apologies. You only came over to say hello and I’ve made things awkward.”

“It sounds like you need someone to listen. I can already tell we’re going to be great friends so I’m happy to be of service.”

“Thank you, Dorothea. I don’t usually launch straight in with that sort of thing, I swear.”

“It must be something about my face. I used to get it at the opera all the time. People would cry into their wine and tell me their life stories.”

“What’s the opera like? I’ve never been.”

“You’ve never-! Why, I ought to put on a performance right here, right now to show what you’ve been missing.”

Ingrid laughed. “Would you really? At least finish your dinner first!” 

“Have the other Lions been to an opera? I cannot believe everyone in Fareghus has been so deprived!”

“Plays are more popular than operas. You’ll have to invite the whole class to your show.”

“I would like to get to know them all, as we’re going to be training together for the years to come.”

“I’ll introduce you,” said Ingrid. “I think you’ll like Annette and Mercedes. They love makeup and only the other day mentioned how immaculate yours looks.”

“Great,” said Dorothea. “What about the boys? Didn’t catch them admiring my makeup, did you?”

“You can meet them if you want. But you’ll probably wish you hadn’t.”

***

Conversation with Ingrid was pleasant. She wasn’t bad to look at either. It had been a while since Dorothea had seen someone pull off the natural look with such aplomb. She studied Ingrid’s face carefully - some girls were good at disguising their makeup - but she couldn’t see any false shine in it. 

A nice girl. Noble but Dorothea didn’t get the sense Ingrid looked down on her. They had lunch again. Dorothea never thought discussing lances and pegasi would be interesting but the way Ingrid talked about them, eyes shining with passion, made all the difference. 

Unlike the cynical Eagles, Ingrid didn’t question why Dorothea had come to the Academy. She seemed to think that, like her, Dorothea had something she wanted to protect.

_Only myself. I have no family, no friends, no liege who I’d go to such lengths for._

Ingrid hoped to serve ‘His Highness’ one day as a knight. Perhaps if Dorothea were one of Prince Dimitri’s subjects, she’d work like a dog to protect him too. What must that be like? To have someone so easily be the centre of your world, without question? 

Romantic love could burn hot and turn cold in the space of a week. Loyalty, the kind Ingrid spoke of, did not crumble half so easily. Could it be better than love? Could Dorothea ever have it? Hawking herself as a trophy wife probably wasn’t the way to get it. People grew bored of shiny things. They always wanted something shinier.

Perhaps Dorothea needed to review her husband hunting strategy. 

“Why don’t you join the class for a training session?” asked Ingrid. “Only the other day, Felix was discussing Adrestian swordplay. Maybe you could show us a thing or two.”

An inward flash of panic. Dorothea’s sword play was _good_ but not exactly flashy. She needed some new moves and fast if she wanted to impress anyone.

“I’d be delighted,” she said.

For the rest of the day, she performed sword drills. A bewildered Ferdinand came to join her, exclaiming he’d never seen her work so hard. Scummy or not, he knew how nobles fought with swords. They worked together until sundown. 

***

“Again,” said Felix Fraldarius. 

Both of them were panting for breath. Felix’s knuckles were white on the practice weapon. Unlike the Eagles, the Lions took sparring seriously. 

Dorothea showed up thinking it was going to be comparable to her usual experience. Hubert silently casting in a corner, Bernadetta curling up under a bench, Linhardt trying to spar and read at the same time. And Edelgard absent, having already broken the hall’s entire supply of training axes.

Meanwhile, Ferdinand, Petra and Caspar beat seven shades out of each other and couldn’t understand why Dorothea didn’t want to join them. Some things weren’t worth messing up her immaculate hair for. 

Her hair stood no chance when training with the Lions. As soon as she picked up a sword, Felix was on her like a shot. 

“Spar with me. Now.”

“So impatient. At least say please.”

Felix grunted. Sylvain laughed and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll have to forgive Felix. He has no idea how to talk to a girl, make her feel special.”

“Sylvain!” growled Ingrid.

Sylvain rolled his eyes and went to spar with Ingrid, leaving Dorothea with Felix. She couldn’t see his narrow frame giving her much challenge. Oh, how wrong she was.

Felix’s sword technique was brutal. She hit the floor half a dozen times. The speed! The force! Not to mention the one hellish time the Crest of Fraldarius activated and sent her flying into the wall. She narrowly avoided cracking her head on the brick and bruised enough that Mercedes came to heal her. 

Prince Dimitri brought her a glass of water and a sympathetic smile.

“Brave of you, to take on Felix.”

“I just need a breather. I _will_ take him down.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Buoyed by his support, Dorothea readied herself for the next round. She’d had enough time to analyse Felix’s plays and come up with a counter strategy. Perhaps she wasn’t born with a sword in her hand but she learned fast. 

“Really? You want to go again?” asked Felix. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.”

“I don’t like losing.”

“Neither do I.”

They circled each other on the training mat. Dorothea waited for Felix to strike first. She didn’t have to wait long.

A left lunge. Dorothea spun right, neatly avoiding it. Felix twirled his sword arm, ready for a follow up blow. It caught her before, but this time she was ready. Instead of left or right, she crouched and went for a low blow on Felix’s midriff. His grunt of surprise as wood met padding sounded sweeter than a thousand demands for an encore.

Enraged, Felix moved in for a heavy blow. Dorothea moved back and parried. They danced around each other, trading blows and parries. Felix took care not to let her close in on him again. She’d have to move fast.

The dull thud of other practice weapons slowly halted. In her periphery, Dorothea caught Ingrid’s avid gaze. She looked enraptured. The way people used to look at her when she was on the stage.

Felix, picking up on her distraction, charged. This time she wouldn’t let him get away. A well placed blow to the ribs, followed by a cheeky kick to the knees sent him sprawling to the ground.

The pant of her breath was the only sound she heard. Felix sat up, disbelief painted across his not-unhandsome face.

“Wow! Oh, wow!” Mercedes clapped her hands. 

“I never thought I’d see the day someone beat Felix,” Sylvain said. 

“Most impressive,” said Dimitri and they exchanged smiles. Was it her imagination, or was there a connection there? 

“Not bad for someone only here to look for a husband,” Felix gritted out. For all the Blue Lions to hear. Dorothea’s smug smile froze in place. But she couldn’t lose her cool, not now. Into the bewildered silence, she let her voice ring clear.

“Shake my hand, little boy. No one likes a sore loser.”

“You’re not denying it then? You’ve got some front,” said Felix. But he gave her a gentleman’s handshake. And Sylvain clapped her on the shoulder and suggested next time she hitch her skirt a bit higher, Mercedes asked if she had any more bruises and just like that Dorothea knew she’d been accepted. An honorary Lion. If she wanted to be. 

The only one who didn’t congratulate her was Ingrid. She no longer wore the wistful expression Dorothea had seen during the spar. No, the frown she wore instead wouldn’t be out of place on a spurned lover. 

“Shall we get tea?” Dorothea asked her. She hoped a little one-on-one time might smooth the feather she’d ruffled. Perhaps Ingrid felt hard done by with all the attention on Dorothea? Dorothea had been through similar issues at the opera. Women often felt threatened by her, something she tried to mitigate with her no inconsiderable charm. But she never imagined Ingrid would be so affected.

One part of her dismissed it. Just a spoilt noble girl, like all the others. The other part protested. Ingrid wasn’t like that. Something else was wrong. 

***

They took tea in the gardens. The good weather made finding a private spot more difficult but eventually Dorothea found a forgotten corner for them to hole up in. She kept up a series of inane chatter while Ingrid remained uncharacteristically monosyllabic. Even requests to hear more about her pegasus went unanswered.

Eventually, Dorothea realised she’d have to ask. “What is it, Ingrid? Have I done something to upset you?”

Silence. Ingrid stared into her chamomile tea. It hadn’t taken much for Dorothea to learn it was her favourite.

“You’re really looking for a husband?”

Dorothea sighed. “I don’t have a nice, cushy family bank account. I have to keep myself. There’s only so many ways a woman can make money. And I won’t look like this forever.“

Ingrid nodded. “When you came up to me in the dining hall, you were just looking for a way in. You didn’t care about _me_ at all. And I played straight into your hands. You were always so interested in my friends without knowing them at all. Felix. Sylvain. Dimitri. You never asked about Ashe. Or Dedue. Or the girls. I should have known. How could I have been so stupid to think someone like you would want to be my friend?”

“Don’t say that. I truly do want to be your friend, Ingrid! I think you’re amazing.”

“Save it. I don’t want your friendship out of pity.”

“I don’t pity you,” Dorothea said. “If anything, I think you’re charmingly naive. This kind of arrangement is normal in the Empire. It’s all about who you know. Is it not the same among the Fhaergan nobility?”

“My friends don’t use me for anything, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Really? Not even your unerring loyalty?”

“My loyalty to them is based on years of friendship! But I suppose I couldn’t expect someone like _you_ to understand such a thing.

Oh, it stung. Dorothea had been friendless for as long as she could remember. She’d wanted to leave that old Dorothea behind her. But she’d been along for the ride all along. 

And so, she went on the attack.

“Did you ever earn anything yourself, Ingrid? Sounds to me like even your friends are awarded to you at birth. Whereas I’ve had to sweat over every single thing I’ve gained. I was blessed with looks and a voice but I still had to work out how to use them. How to charm people into getting what I want.”

Ingrid’s face stayed stony. “I can get you a date with a nobleman. Consider it payment for all the time you invested in charming me so well.”

“Don’t be like that, Ingrid. Can’t I want a rich husband _and_ to be your dear friend?” 

“You just want to use me. You admitted it. How can we possibly be friends after that?” 

“Then let me do something for you in return. Name it.”

“Friendship isn’t a transaction, Dorothea. Now, do you want a date or don’t you?” 

*** 

Ingrid was wrong. In Dorothea’s world, everything was transactional. Ingrid must live on a different planet if she thought people acted out of the goodness of their own hearts. Altruism was a dangerous lie. Everyone had an angle, it was just a matter of working out what it was.

Dorothea took the date. After all, she’d provided Ingrid with a listening ear even if the friendship was now untenable.

The boy waited for her at Garreg Mach’s only good restaurant. It wasn’t anyone she recognised, but given the way Ingrid felt about her it wasn’t a surprise.

Dorothea hadn’t realised how much she’d grown to enjoy Ingrid’s company until she felt its keen absence. Dorothea liked the Eagles (with the exception of Ferdinand) but they had some of the most shocking people skills she’d ever seen. A conversation with Ingrid was a breath of fresh air in comparison. She was a beacon of sanity among the quirks of their classmates.

“Dorothea? I asked if you wanted a starter.”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Dorothea hurriedly went back to the menu. The food wasn’t luxury, but it was better than whatever the kitchen staff scraped up in the monastery. Ingrid gobbled every meal down like it was her last but Dorothea felt they could do with hiring a proper chef rather than Rhea’s favourite nun and whoever was bored enough to venture into the kitchen that day.

Her date was named Paul. He wasn’t bad looking and judging by his outfit he liked to splash the cash. Tall, tick. Noble decorum, tick. Hair not bad, sort of muddy sand with sticky up bits. 

“I’ll have a salad.”

“Great. I’ll have the garlic bread, the soup and the prawn cocktail.” 

Dorothea blinked. A big eater, hmm? She imagined Paul with a middle aged spread, lazing on a chaise lounge while she chased a series of piglet-like children.

_Eww._

Of course, he could be one of those men who ate like a horse and worked it all off. 

“What are you thinking about?” asked Paul. “You have such an intense gaze. I love the colour of your eyes. Like emeralds.”

 _Blegh_. Dorothea was long bored of having eyes like emeralds. Over the years, she’d been assured she had emerald eyes, silken hair and snowy white skin. If she ever made a date bingo card, those phrases would go on it front and centre.

“What a sweet compliment. Thank you so much.”

“So, how do you know Lady Ingrid?”

“We’re friends,” Dorothea lied. “Wasn’t it sweet of her to set us up like this?”

“Sure. I mean, I’m sorry she couldn’t make it but I can’t say I’m unhappy with such a gorgeous substitute.”

Dorothea’s smile was like a razor. “Oh? Ingrid turned you down, did she?”

“Yep. Not really a surprise, since I’m only a distant Gautier cousin.” 

“But you hoped to marry her?”

“Sure. Getting a crest back in the family would be a win. But I didn’t get my hopes up. I heard on the grapevine Ingrid’s refusing marriage. Her dad keeps trying, but she won’t accept proposals and rarely meets prospective suitors.”

“Because her fiance died? I can’t imagine losing someone that close to me.”

“Glenn was barely gone before the proposals started flying in. Or so they say.”

“How sad,” murmured Dorothea. Maybe she’d been wrong to think Ingrid was lucky. Having everyone fight over you for good breeding stock must hurt. Maybe Ingrid worked just as hard as Dorothea had to convince her father to let her go to Garreg Mach instead of marrying the first noble who’d have her.

“Strange too, considering the finances of House Galatea are such a mess. They have the name and the crest but not the coin to go with it.”

 _Wrong again_ , thought Dorothea. She’d assumed all nobles were loaded. The knowledge Ingrid grew up poor made her want to kick herself a thousand times over. No wonder she’d felt a connection with Ingrid. They’d more in common than either of them realised.

“The marriage to House Fraldarius would have saved them. But of course, it’s all off now. The younger Fraldarius has a major crest, so he’s too good to waste on a Galatea. She’ll have to look elsewhere.”

“You mean _Felix_? Felix isn’t fit to lick Ingrid’s shoes!”

He shrugged. “It’s the truth!”

“Ingrid isn’t some piece of meat on the cattle market. She’s a person and she should marry who she damn well pleases, because she loves them! Not to save her family, or any of that utter crap. Why don’t her family help each other, rather than place the burden on Ingrid’s shoulders?”

“It’s not that simple. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. You really care about her, huh?” 

Dorothea did. A lot. So much that she knew this date was going to be a complete and utter waste of time.

“I have to go,” she said. “Here’s the money for the salad.”

She thrust a handful of gold at him. Usually she’d be happy to let the man pay, but she’d had more than enough of that lately. With every date, she hated the nobility more and more. If she settled down with one of these pigs, she might live in a beautiful house but she’d only ever be a _thing_. Bought and paid for, just like they wanted to do with Ingrid.

“Wait, what? You’re just...going?”

“I don’t have a crest, a house or anything of worth so don’t be too disappointed,” spat Dorothea. “I hope when you find what you’re looking for she already has someone better.”

The restaurant doors banged behind her. Being alone in the evening was usually a big no-no, but the mood Dorothea was in, she’d set anyone who approached on fire quicker than they could blink.

All that Reason training had been good for something after all.

***

Garreg Mach was never silent. 

Dorothea marched past troops of returning knights, gaggles of stray students and the odd barking dog. By now she knew the monastery well enough, but trying to find someone specific was like trying to find a pegasus feather in a wyvern stable. 

The training hall yielded only Felix. Dorothea seized a handful of his sleeve.

“Where’s Ingrid?”

“Now who’s being impolite! I don’t know, alright? I _do_ know that you really upset her. So back off!”

“I can’t back off. Not until I fix this.”

Dorothea tightened her fist. She’d be willing to fight him again if it got her the information she needed. Felix huffed.

“...Fine. Try the pegasus stable. She goes there when she’s sad.”

Felix was on the money. Dorothea had never stepped foot into a pegasus stable in her life. She didn’t like animals. She liked even less animals with big flappy wings and stomping hooves. 

Ingrid was at the back, tending one of the beasts.

“Ingrid!”

Dorothea, breathless, skidded to a halt in front of her. The pegasus gave her a long look and then snorted. Clearly it found her lacking.

“Did you enjoy your date?” asked Ingrid, voice as wooden as the stable doors. She didn’t even look up from grooming her pegasus.

Dorothea laughed, the pitch too high. “He could have been the best date in the world and I wouldn’t have been able to stop thinking about you.”

“I’ve spent too long with Sylvain to fall for a line like that.”

“Ingrid. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. I can’t say more than that. I dearly wish to be your friend again. If you won’t believe me, I suppose there’s nothing more I can do.”

Dorothea waited a beat. When Ingrid still didn’t look up, she turned to go. She knew when she was beaten. Nice one, Dorothea. Friendless once again.

“Wait,” Ingrid’s hand on her arm. “I- I said some things I didn’t mean. I should apologise too. To tell the truth, this isn’t the first time someone’s tried to get close to me for similar reasons. But it _is_ the first time it’s really upset me. I liked you, Dorothea.”

“I like you too. Really. Honestly.” 

“Even if I don’t want you dating any of my friends?”

“I realised something on my date. I don’t think I want to go out with nobles anymore. I made it this far without a husband. Why shouldn’t I go even further?”

“So you’re changing your mind? Just like that?”

“Maybe I’ve found something I want more.”

Dorothea gave Ingrid a meaningful look. Ingrid blushed. _Blushed_. And it was more adorable than Dorothea had ever imagined. 

“I shall have to court you properly, of course. Flowers, poems, endless compliments.”

“I don’t need any of that! You Adrestians...always so showy.”

“Whatever you want, then. Ingrid. My Ingrid.”

“We have to take things slowly.”

“I can do that.”

“I mean it, Dorothea. I don’t know if I can trust you yet.”

“Fine. Do I get a kiss?”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“I didn’t hear a ‘no’!”

And so their tentative first kiss was in the stables, in front of the Seiros pegasi. It was awkward and stilted and their noses clashed. But it had five thousand times the feeling than any other first kiss Dorothea had experienced.

It wouldn’t be an easy future. Dorothea knew Ingrid wouldn’t give up her dream of becoming a knight for anyone. But that was fine. She had her own dreams too. 

The stage waited for her. Every night, Dorothea dreamt of it. 

Fhirdiad wouldn’t know what hit it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, despite the prose being a little rough and ready due to the time limit.
> 
> I'll come in and clean up in the next couple of days. It was a good experience, to just bash out words as quickly as possible. 6k in 2 days, I'll take it.
> 
> Check out the #TGFodlanBakeOff tag for other entries by talented writers. Thanks to the mods for running the event.
> 
> Title from The Show by Lenka
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter @MachineQueen4


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